Worst Day Ever

Why is it that everything bad you have ever done catches up to you all in one day? It just boggles the mind. Must be the law of returns, or casting moldy bread upon ungrateful ducks, or something.

Yesterday started off like every other day (me praying fervently that everything will go perfectly and at the end of the day we will all be translated from this frail mortal existence), and I had bright hopes and good intentions.

For some reason, nothing went according to plan.

When Joshua and Eva emerged from their cave I was prepared to greet them with open arms and loving, motherly smiles, until I noticed that Joshua was all wet, and I was pretty sure it wasn't from him playing in the sprinklers I am pretty sure I didn't put in their room (sounds awkward, but I am sure it will all make sense if you say it really, really slow to yourself). So, I had to tear down his bed, and lug the smelly bundle off to our already full laundry basket (LAUNDRY?? Oh yeah, I knew I forgot something....).

Eva was wandering around without her pajama shirt on, and despite all her protests, I attempted to get her dressed and semi-presentable (meaning, I had to hold her down and brush out the tangly mess that is her hair while she screamed).

After everyone was organized, then began the wait for the FedEx man. He was bringing our new computer.

It made everything awkward. Getting chores done, while usually a tad stressful, became more so since I was trying to keep an ear open (??) for the door, and then I was certain that the second I sat down to nurse my little Lily he would show up. And that's EXACTLY what happened. Bleh.

Jeremy had asked that I wait until he got home to open the box (not because he was afraid I would wreck it, but because we never buy stuff and it was exciting). I honored that request for about an hour and then tore the puppy from its box. (Hi, to you, too, Ben!)

Oh, man. When you spend a lot of money on something, it seems you get a lot in return.

I then set it up, kicked my old computer, and doodled on our new one until Jeremy got home.

Jeremy's excitement vanquished his disappointment that he wasn't there for the unveiling, and he quickly popped a squat where I had set camp on the floor.

"Hey!" I protested. "We need to go to Costco!"

Jeremy could barely contain his non-enthusiasm. I don't know what's wrong with that man. I mean, doesn't EVERYONE like dragging 3 tired, cranky children to a large warehouse full of stuff and watch their wife buy 8 Dragon Tales DVD's that she is so sure her children NEED??

"Can I check out the computer first?" he pleaded with all the longing of a child who wants to go to Disneyland.

"No!" I replied with all the vehemence of a mother who is tired of listening to her child plead to go to Disneyland.

I then checked my tone.

"We can play with it after the kids are in bed," I tried again, attempting to smooth out the two wrinkles in the middle of my eyebrows that seem to grow deeper everyday.

Off to Costco.

I don't know about you, but Costco is the Celestial Kingdom of stores for me. Lots of stuff for a little bit of money, something for everyone, samples of naughty foods you would never buy, but love to indulge in...Ahhh...

Now, Jeremy has the patience of a Saint (a Latter-Day Saint!) and while he will follow me up and down the aisles (several times) eventually he becomes weary and requests to leave. And I am usually unsympathetic. I mean, hey, I am stuck in the house all day long, and he gets to go up to Salt Lake and play with the other engineers all day long (what else could it be but playing? why else would someone wake up at 4 AM?).

After filling our cart with as many Dragon Tales DVDs as possible, we headed to the food court. We ran into one of our old friends, and he joined us for dinner. As we sat chatting, Joshua developed a look of admiration and wonder for this friend, and basked in the sincere interest and attention that he gave him. After he left, Joshua looked up at me and asked, "Can he come over to our house?"

I felt guilty. I don't think have done much but put Joshua in time out these days, and the fact is he wants validation, attention, and love. And he got it from someone else.

As we walked out, Eva decided she wanted to ride on the front of the cart (something I don't like her doing, mostly because I envision her getting squished up against something if I am not paying attention), and was riffling through our groceries. Then it happened.

*SLIP TRIP RIP SCREAM*

Eva's toe got dragged under the front wheel of the cart, ripping back her entire nail.

At that very moment, Joshua decided to have a screaming contest with her and melted into a puddle of little, screaming boy.

Jeremy and I gave each other the "This is so your fault" face, followed by the wounded "Hey, don't blame me!" face, which then turned into the, "Look at the ground so nobody will give us the 'You're a bad parent' face" face.

Luckily, upstairs from us is a nurse (and a friend) and so I hauled my little lady up to Tara the second we got home. Tara quickly boiled some water (hey, it's not just a myth!) and went to work on Eva. Despite the fact that it was extremely painful, Eva sat as still as a two-year-old can, and let Tara wash her foot, cut back her entire toe nail, but all sorts of antibiotics on it, and wrap it up with bandaids. I reassured her the whole time with the thought of lemon cookies for being a good patient.

"You want a cookie?"

"Yeeeaaahhhh!" She wailed.

"Okay, we have lemon cookies," I said, holding her tightly to me.

Tara started clipping away. Eva screamed in protest.

"Cookies! Lemon!" I eeked out, feeling helpless.

Above Eva's screams, I could hear Lily's downstairs, calling out for her mama to fill her tummy.

Oi.

We ran down, got the kids ready for bed, read scriptures, and then I started to pray, thankful that this day was finally ending.

As I did, I felt a little bump. Joshua was next to me, and I figured he was just adjusting his body. Then it happened again, and again, and...

KA BOOOOOM!

Time OUT!

And more weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. I will conclude this part and move on.

Then it was time to organize the computer and transfer all precious picture files from the old computer to the new (the whole reason we bought the new computer was because we were running out of space, and I was afraid that the computer would die before we got the chance).

Jeremy said he would take care of the transfer of everything while I ran to the store to return something. After I came back, I figured he had everything well in hand, so I did dishes, laundry, some food storage stuff, and then came to check on the progress. Jeremy was vacuuming out the old computer which had dust bunnies that were the size of iceberg lettuce (not a leaf, a whole head).

He reassembled the archaic machine, and pushed the on button. Nothing. It was dead. D E A D.

And I got really, really mad.

I don't know why I think it is okay to be mean to my husband. I mean, he is my best friend. Why do I treat the worst the ones I love most?

"I think the motherboard is fried," he said, sighing a little and crumpling on the floor.

"SnARl Gak BLaoogn!" I uttered unintelligibly.

"Hey! I'm sorry! I learned my lesson, and won't be vacuuming out computers ever again..."

"SpLIben Glap POOonn!" I spat.

I was in this mood for a good two hours. It then evolved into pouty self-pity.

I sat on the floor pushing the on button again and again (as if it would help) trying not to cry. Did I want Jeremy to feel bad? Yes. Yes I did.

I managed to compose myself and pathetically utter,

"It's just that the whole reason we bought the computer was so we wouldn't lose the pictures, and now it has happened, and I am disappointed, and frustrated, and sad..." *snifflesnifflesniffle*

Ya know, sometimes I wonder why Jeremy married me.

But, hey, give me some credit. I did realize I was being a brat, and laid on the floor looking helpless so he would take pity on me. It worked (well, I had to pull him onto the floor with me).

Even though I didn't say it, I think he understood I was sorry for turning into Daranasaurus Rex.

We went to bed.

And I couldn't sleep.

The whole day was replaying through my mind. My poor little boy, who just wanted love; my little lady, who just wanted her toe nail not to come off; my poor little Lily who just wanted her mama; and my poor husband who just wanted the woman and friend he married almost 7 years ago.

I don't know when it happened that I turned inside out, thinking only of myself. I hear mothers talk about "getting a break" and I think, "Gee, I don't feel like I need a break," and it's probably because I have been turning my life into one big Dara Day Spa.

As I lay there quietly in the dark, I again returned to prayer, pleading for help, and a scripture came to mind: "Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing; and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of god" (D&C 88:119).

Prepare every needful thing...